Sugar sugar baby

[70] Day 1

Day 1.

The bus ride to Yosemite national park took several hours. By the time I arrived at the campsite, it was already noon.

It didn't take long for me to realize that all the YouTube videos in the world couldn't prepare me for the reality of living in the wild. As the sun set behind the trees, casting long shadows across the forest floor, I sat by the small campfire I'd managed to start after what felt like hours of frustration. My hands were blistered from striking the damn flint over and over, and my nerves were shot. But I'd done it—I'd managed to get the fire going.

That was probably the only thing I'd gotten right all day.

My stomach growled loudly, reminding me just how poorly the rest of the day had gone. I hadn't caught a damn thing. Not even close. I'd set up a few snares, hoping to catch something small, like a rabbit or squirrel, but nothing had taken the bait. Not that I even knew if I was setting the traps up correctly. The YouTube videos made it look easy, but out here, with the dirt under my nails and the sharp scent of pine needles in the air, it felt like an entirely different world.

The tent I'd pitched behind me flapped softly in the evening breeze. I glanced at it, feeling a mix of relief and dread. At least I'd have some shelter tonight, but that tent wasn't going to keep me warm if the temperature dropped any lower. And with no food... I was already feeling the fatigue setting in.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself, staring into the crackling fire. "What the hell was I thinking?"

It wasn't like I could turn back now, though. I'd already lied to my parents, already committed to this insane plan to go off the grid and disappear for a month. I had to see it through. But the longer I sat there, the more I realized how unprepared I really was.

My stomach growled again, louder this time, and I cursed under my breath. "This is ridiculous."

I stood up, pacing around the small clearing I'd chosen for my campsite. The trees loomed over me, their branches rustling in the wind, and for the first time, I felt just how alone I was out here. The noises of the forest—animals rustling in the bushes, the distant hoot of an owl—felt foreign and unsettling. Every snap of a twig made me tense up, half-expecting something to come charging out of the woods.

But nothing happened. It was just me, the fire, and the darkening sky above.

"I've got to figure this out," I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else. "I can't do this for a whole month if I don't eat."

I walked over to where I'd set up one of the snares, crouching down to inspect it. It hadn't been touched. Not a damn thing. I stared at the makeshift trap, my frustration boiling over.

"What the fuck am I doing wrong?" I growled, kicking at the dirt. "Come on, this is supposed to be basic survival shit!"

I stood up, rubbing my face with both hands. The reality of this situation was hitting me hard. I'd thought I could handle it—that it would be some kind of adventure, a break from the bullshit of everyday life. But now, as the hunger gnawed at my gut and the cold wind nipped at my skin, it was becoming clear that this wasn't going to be easy.

With a sigh, I trudged back to the fire and sat down, poking at the flames with a stick. The warmth was comforting, but it didn't fill the growing void in my stomach. I hadn't packed much food—just enough for emergencies, but I was trying to save it for later in the trip. I hadn't expected to go hungry on the first day.

"Maybe I should just eat the fucking granola bars," I muttered, glancing at my pack. But I knew that was a slippery slope. If I started dipping into my reserves now, I'd burn through them in no time. And then what?

I leaned back, staring up at the sky as the first stars began to twinkle through the canopy of trees. How the hell was I going to survive out here for a month?

The idea had seemed so simple back at home. Disappear, cut off from everything, live off the land. It had almost sounded romantic in a weird way. But now, sitting here in the middle of nowhere, alone and hungry, I was starting to realize just how insane it really was.

And it wasn't just about the hunger. It was the isolation, the cold, the sheer unpredictability of nature. Out here, there were no safety nets. No parents to fall back on, no Vanessa to offer me a lifeline. I was on my own, and for the first time in a long time, I felt the full weight of that responsibility.

I ran a hand through my hair, sighing deeply. "One day down. Twenty-nine more to go. Jesus Christ."

The fire crackled and popped, sending little sparks up into the air, and I watched them float away into the night. There was a strange beauty to it, despite everything. The quiet, the stillness. It was different from the noise of the city, from the constant hum of life back home. Out here, it was just me and the wild.

But that didn't make it any less terrifying.

Eventually, the cold got to be too much, and I knew I had to retreat to my tent. I grabbed my backpack and slipped inside, zipping the flap shut behind me. The tent wasn't much, but it was enough to keep me sheltered from the wind. I laid out my sleeping bag and crawled inside, pulling it up around my shoulders as I curled up in the small space.

My stomach growled again, a sharp reminder of my failure today, but I forced myself to ignore it. I just needed to sleep. Maybe tomorrow would be better. Maybe I'd catch something, or at least figure out what the hell I was doing wrong.

"Tomorrow," I muttered to myself, closing my eyes. "It'll be better tomorrow."

But as I lay there, the sounds of the forest creeping into my tent, I couldn't help but feel a creeping sense of doubt. What if it wasn't better tomorrow? What if every day was like this—hungry, cold, and full of failure?

I didn't have an answer to that. So, I just curled up tighter and tried to sleep, hoping that somehow, I'd figure it out before it was too late.

Q: Have you watched Man vs Wild before?